


on your knees

by thedemonhammer



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: M/M, Victor's enamoured, Yuuri tries something new, slight nsfw
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-05
Updated: 2016-12-05
Packaged: 2018-09-06 14:07:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,064
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8755519
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thedemonhammer/pseuds/thedemonhammer
Summary: Yuuri uses his eros persona to hide the fact that he’s nothing more than a big, screaming ball of nerves and uncertainty. Loosely inspired by Viktor tying Yuuri’s skates in episode 8.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Here's my first contribution to the _Yuri!!! On Ice_ fandom. This anime is going to be the death of me. It's one of my favorite series, and I can't wait for the new episode.
> 
> Loosely inspired by the scene in episode 8 where Viktor ties Yuri's skates. This story was written for my little sister snakpak. Enjoy, everyone!

In the empty locker room, Viktor’s on his knees before him, and Yuuri trembles at a sudden onslaught of obscene thoughts. It shouldn’t be this enticing—Viktor’s just untying his skates, for crying out loud.

 

And yet there’s something almost magical about having Viktor Nikiforov— _the_ Viktor Nikiforov, a god among mortals in the ice-skating world, Yuuri’s childhood idol, the man who inspired him to try in the first place—kneeling with his head between Yuuri’s knees. Focused on his task with a content smile. As if _Yuuri_ is the ice-skating god, and _Viktor’s_ the mortal blessed with the chance to service him.

 

Yuuri sits on the bench, perfectly still. The competition roars above him—he can hear them announcing his opponents’ scores and rankings. None of that matters now. How can it, when he has Viktor so perfectly placed in front of him?

 

His face is flushed, but he’s not so sure it’s from the short program anymore. His clothes feel too tight, constricting his neck and chest until he wonders if he’s suffocating. It’s not at all like the other times he’s felt this way; choking back anxiety, desperately trying to silence the loud voices insisting he’s not good enough.

 

This time, Yuuri realizes he _is_ worth this. The cheers in the stadium when the music concluded, the rush of interviewers and fans begging for autographs as he stepped off the ice, and the glimmering confliction of pride and arousal in Viktor’s eyes assure Yuuri he’s worth all this and more.

 

Viktor finally removes his skate, and Yuuri isn’t entirely certain what comes over him. When Viktor releases him to set about removing the skate on his left foot, Yuuri expertly places his foot on Viktor’s shoulder—instead of the ground, where Viktor expected it to go—and shoves him back just enough for Viktor to peer up at him.

 

Viktor glances up, and Yuuri almost laughs. The look on his face is priceless: silver brow furrowed, lips drawn in a thin line, eyes glistening. “Yuuri?” He lightly grasps Yuuri’s bare ankle, the one now resting against his cheek. “What are you—?”

 

“‘ _Yuuri’_?” He channels all the eros he can muster into making his voice low, shifting his expression into the sultry, disinterested look he wears during his short programs. He cocks his head to the side and narrows his eyes. “I’m sure there are better uses for your mouth than just saying my name.”

 

Viktor’s blue eyes widen, and for a heart-stopping moment, Yuuri thinks he’s gone too far. He starts to remove his foot from Viktor’s shoulder, apology already forming. How the hell is he going to explain himself? It was no secret that he found Viktor attractive; and he was pretty sure Viktor at least held some interest in him. And if he didn’t, then what was with all of that ‘seduce me with everything you have’ stuff?

 

Viktor’s hand tightens around Yuuri’s ankle, holding him in place. His face flushes, his eyes darken into vibrant sapphires, and Yuuri feels bolts of pleasure zip through him. Viktor’s _into_ this.

 

Viktor closes his eyes and presses his lips to Yuuri’s ankle. Even though there’s fabric blocking him from making direct contact with his flesh, Yuuri still shivers. “Yes,” Viktor mumbles against the bone, “there are better uses.”

 

Yuuri straightens his spine and opens his mouth to say something fitting to the persona he’s currently wearing. What would the seductress do when faced with this challenge? He was sure she would say anything alluring such as, ‘Then why don’t you show me?’. But Viktor bites his ankle then—hard enough to make him catch his breath, but not hard enough to elicit a cry.

 

Yuuri bites his lip and tries to remain in control. It’s never been this difficult when he was just seducing Viktor on the ice; with Viktor’s lips peppering kisses over his ankle, down the bridge, fingers sliding under the hem of his pants and stroking his calf, Yuuri finds keeping his expression aloof a nearly impossible task.

 

Viktor doesn’t do anything too intense; they’re in a public space, and if someone comes in, they need to be able to break apart. Yuuri wishes they were back in the hotel room. He’d be perched on the end of the bed, knees hooked over Viktor’s shoulders. Yuuri swallows a sigh, gripping the wooden bench.

 

“You’re stunning, Yuuri,” Viktor whispers against his skin, quiet as a prayer. “Absolutely lovely.” His hand trails up to the back of Yuuri’s knee and shifts them so he’s pressed in tight between Yuuri’s legs.

 

Yuuri closes his eyes and bites his lip. Viktor’s breaking down his walls. Those elegant fingers trace over every inch of his shin, and that’s almost his undoing. Yuuri trembles, wondering if it’s even possible for anything to feel better than this.

 

He’s embarrassed, beneath the calm exterior. He’s thankful he’s managed to perfect his _eros_ persona. Deep down, he wants to fall apart beneath Viktor’s hands, melt into his touch and scream his name to the heavens. But the low thrum of cheering echoes above him, and Yuuri doesn’t want to share this moment with anyone. He’s the only one in the world who can satisfy Viktor, after all—so it’s natural that he should be the only one to see Viktor like this.

 

He’s dangerously close to coming undone, and though it’s almost painful to do so, Yuuri reaches down and grasps Viktor’s tie in his hand. He jerks it, hard, pulling Viktor up and away from his ankle. Viktor makes a surprised sound and peers up at him; Yuuri shivers at the dark red flush painting Viktor’s cheeks, the drunken look in his eyes, and feels a shock of pride at the knowledge that _he_ did this to Viktor. _Him_. No one else.

 

“Patience, Viktor,” Yuuri says quietly, running his thumb over the expensive material of the black tie in his hand. He licks his lips, smiling at the way Viktor’s shoulders quake. “We have to head back soon. Let’s continue later, yeah?”

 

Viktor places his hands on Yuuri’s thighs and uses them to hoist himself up so that he’s face-to-face with him. He gives Yuuri that devoted, enamoured smile he always gives him after every performance, and Yuuri resists the urge to hide his face in embarrassment. “You’re going to be the death of me, любимая.”

**Author's Note:**

> I enjoyed writing this, so I hope everyone enjoyed reading it. I look forward to writing more in the future. See you all in the next story!
> 
> Check me out on tumblr: _http://childrenoftheicerink.tumblr.com_


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